


delicate

by thebestworstthing



Series: sbi family dynamic brainrot go brrrrr [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Sleepy Bois Inc, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Adoption, Angst, Anxiety, Family Dynamic, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, NOT THE REAL PPL, Sad Wilbur Soot, Schlatt is mentioned - Freeform, Smoking, Suicidal Thoughts, THIS IS MY OWN FICTIONAL UNIVERSE FT THE SBI, Technoblade has ADHD, Tommy isn't adopted yet, Trans Character, Wilbur Soot Needs a Hug, Wilbur is trans because I am trans and I make the rules here, angst with a somewhat happy ending, no beta we die like wilbur in skybattle, they're brothers ur honour, this is gonna b part of a bigger series, unsafe binding, wilbur and techno have a heart to heart but it's awkward bc they only just met LMAOOO losers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:00:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28079589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebestworstthing/pseuds/thebestworstthing
Summary: “You can go inside you know,” Wilbur mutters after a second, “I’m not holding you prisoner here.”“I know.”“Then why have you stayed?” Wilbur isn’t sure what answer he’s expecting, but he knows the one he wants. He wants someone to care about him so forcefully and violently that he has no choice but to agree with them. A love so powerful it cancels out his own doubts.***Wilbur smokes his problems away, Technoblade is far too awkward to be trusted with helping someone upset. Somehow, they make it work.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Series: sbi family dynamic brainrot go brrrrr [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2057040
Comments: 32
Kudos: 373





	delicate

**Author's Note:**

> please read the tags because this touches on some potentially triggering topics. if any of these may upset you please don't read this fic. nothing is described particularly detailed, aside from wilbur's casual suicidal thoughts. wilbur is also trans because i am trans and i am self projecting. dont look at me.
> 
> also, in this work:  
> techno: just turned 15, adopted age 13  
> WIlbur: 15 and a half, adopted four days ago as of the end of this fic  
> tommy: 11, hasnt been adopted yet nd doesn't show up (sorry :( )
> 
> (i changed their ages from the og version of this fic to make it make more sense for future fics dont ask questions)
> 
> it uses my headcanon that techno is younger but adopted first so he gets oldest child privileges, this was written before wilbur confirmed canon twins but idc this is my world im the god here

Wilbur is fifteen years old, and he feels like dying.

It’s 2:34am, he’s got school in six hours. His alarm will be going off in just less than four hours but he takes a sip of his monster anyway. He won’t sleep tonight, just like he didn’t sleep last night. Or the night before that.

The roof is cold beneath him, offering no comfort as he lies down. He’s on the ledge outside his window, the sky is clear and it isn’t raining for once which makes it calming – if not chilly. There’s soft music blaring through his earbuds and the stars seem to be shining extra bright today. There’s so many twinkling in the sky, Wilbur traces patterns between them with his eyes. Making up his own constellations and imagining what it would be like to run among them.

Phil’s house is in the middle of the English countryside, so the streets are silent and everything is dark, except for the light coming out of his room and from their outdoor garage light. There’s something so domestic about having a garage. Wilbur can’t place what it is, except his previous homes didn’t have ones he was allowed to go in. This one is full of tools, old junk Phil hasn’t thrown away, and a workbench with a handful of random papers scattered around it. Techno likes to read in there but Wilbur doesn’t understand why. There are far cosier places to hang out. It’s odd how much he enjoys the domesticity of living with Phil and Techno. Wilbur was sure things would’ve gone to shit by now, it always does in foster homes, but so far Phil seems genuine.

It’s probably why he’s feeling more anxious – the wait for things to go bad is always worse than the actual bad times. At least even if they beat the shit out of him, he knows what to expect. At least when things suck, he doesn’t have hope. Ten years in foster care have taught him that hope is the most dangerous weapon of all. The longer he hopes a house will be different, the more it hurts when he’s disappointed. Part of him wishes he could lose his mindless optimism and he chastises himself for being dumb. He can’t pretend this place is different to the others – they’ll show their colours eventually.

It doesn’t matter anyway because Wilbur isn’t sure he’ll make it off this roof.

The wind blows hair into his eyes. Wilbur sighs deeply, sitting up to pull a cigarette out of the packet and light it. He started smoking in his last house, after one of the other foster children had found him sat outside staring into the ocean and offered him a cigarette, saying it dulled the pain. And sure, while its not the best habit, its certainly one of his healthier coping mechanisms. Beats slashing his arms and legs to ribbons and drinking himself into a coma.

He takes a deep breathe in, feeling his lungs expand, and then blows out slowly. A cloud of smoke floats up into the air and Wilbur wonders whether his new smoking habit is just another way he’s found to kill himself. More subtle, less concerned stares and judging glances.

Wilbur takes another drag and has to resist the urge to trace lines over the white scars littering his arm. He hasn’t hurt himself for so long now, but the urge sits in the bottom of his stomach – craving the relief he know he’d get so easily. He feels sick at how much he wants to hurt himself – there’s got to be something so incredibly fucked up in his brain for that to feel like the best option.

He’s a problem child. Through and through. Wilbur wonders briefly whether Phil knew what he was getting into when he picked him up that day, or if his troubled past and shitty behaviours will be a surprise. It’s almost enough to make him smile – imagine picking out a kid to foster thinking you’re doing something great and you get the nicotine-addicted, depressed, socially-awkward train wreak that is Wilbur.

What a poor deal. Wilbur takes another drag, before stubbing the cigarette out on the roof next to his foot.

His mind casts back to a conversation he had with a roommate in his old home – a loudmouthed teen only a year older than him with a probably concerning drinking habit, going by the name of Schlatt. Schlatt had asked him that night if he believed in heaven.

Wilbur had taken a while to consider his answer – weighing the pros and cons in gentle silence. He’d spat out some bullshit about hoping for something after, rather than just nothingness after death because that seemed miserable.

Now though, his answer has changed. There’s nothing after death, and that brings him comfort. Whatever he does now, doesn’t matter because it ceases to exist with him. He can break things, scream, cry, laugh, _whatever_ and it doesn’t matter. Because _he_ doesn’t matter. The universe is vast and large and no matter what he does, the sun will rise tomorrow and set again the next day.

Wilbur Soot is an infinitely small spec in the vast universe, and he is so completely irrelevant it would burn if he didn’t find the void calming. It’s like being lost at sea and drowning, the fear of the unknown cancelled out by the calmness of the inevitable.

He could die tonight, and nothing would change. The earth would continue to turn on its axis but he would be reduced to just a memory. And memories are always far more beautiful, the benefits of being viewed through rose-tinted glasses. As a memory, he can’t ruin Techno and Phil’s perception of him.

In life, he would have been nothing more than a problem child, kicked out of too many foster homes to name. In death, he would be remembered as having far more potential than he ever realistically had. A flame burnt out too young. A tragedy.

Is being remembered as a tragedy better than not being remembered at all?

It doesn’t matter, Wilbur decides quickly. It’s not like he’d be around to care.

The breeze feels colder after that thought.

He pulls another cigarette out of the packet, and is about to light it when someone speaks behind him.

“Are you sharing?” Techno asks.

Wilbur jumps and accidentally pulls his earbuds out, startled by the sudden speech, and sees Techno leaning out of his window. He swallows, nervous, and lowers the cigarette slowly. Techno must pick up on the worry on his face because he continues talking.

“You won’t be in trouble or anything for smoking, it’s okay. Phil is calm – he’d never hurt one of us.”

Wilbur forgot that Techno came from the same background he did, he was just adopted at a younger age. He’ll still remember the stress of being in the foster system, the “parents” who didn’t give a shit, the fists thrown behind closed doors, the inherent loneliness of being forgotten and the pure terror of being noticed. He understands then, they’re not that different. Two sides of the same broken coin.

There are a few seconds of tense silence where Wilbur struggles to find the right words to say, instead he just offers the pack out to Techno, who grimaces in response. “I don’t actually smoke, it smells kinda gross, I just wasn’t sure how to start a conversation.”

And Wilbur laughs at that, if there’s one thing he understands well, it’s social awkwardness. He pats the roof next to him in a silent gesture of _come hang out_ and he isn’t sure whether he wants Techno to join him or not.

Sure enough, after a second, the pink haired man climbs his way out of Wilbur’s window and sits next to him, leaning back to look at the stars.

“I find the darkness calming.” Wilbur says after a silent few moments, feeling the need to justify his actions and why he’s smoking on the roof at 3am. “I like watching the stars, they’re-.” He coughs awkwardly, “a good distraction.”

“From what?” Techno asks, he’s nervous, Wilbur has noticed his fingers drumming silently against the roof and the slight bounce in his crossed legs. A long strand of pink hair drifts in his face and Techno huffs it away.

“Everything.” Wilbur says, and tries not to think about whether this means Techno cares about him or not. He’s only been there a few days, Techno can’t care yet. He _shouldn’t_ care yet – he’s too much of a burden to justify taking up so much of their attention.

Wilbur lights another cigarette and takes a long drag. Feeling his lungs burn from a combination of the rush of smoke entering his lungs and the binder he’s been wearing for far too long now. He coughs, wheezes slightly and feels a burning pain start spreading across his chest. He was lucky that the _gender: F_ on his report was changed, because nobody wants to take on a trans kid. Especially one with this many problems. Unfortunately, it means Phil and Techno don’t know. Which is good – he gets a fresh start to be whoever he wants to be, but it means that Techno is a lot more concerned than he should be when Wilbur hisses in pain and clutches his chest.

“ _Fuck,_ dude, are-. _Shit_ , are you okay?” Techno leans forwards as if to touch his shoulder, then flinches away last second. Wilbur is glad, because if he had to deal with someone new touching him right now he would probably completely lose his shit.

“Yeah-” Wilbur grits his teeth. “I just have asthma.” 

It’s a lie, but it works. Techno doesn’t know any better and scowls at him. “Do you have an inhaler? Do you need it?” 

Wilbur grimaces, “No, I’ll be fine. I just need to wait.” And Techno watches him take deep breaths until the pain subsides and his lungs feel like they can open again. He’s risking permanent damage wearing his binder for this long, but the thought of his new foster family finding out terrifies him. After he can breathe normally again, he takes another drag. Techno just scoffs and shakes his head, turning away.

Wilbur is just tired. Of everything. He’s tired of being a disappointment, he’s tired of constantly hoping things get better just to get kicked down again, he’s tired of trying.

There’s only so many times you can pick yourself back up before you lose the motivation to try again.

The wind blows again and he shivers, the half-empty can of monster tucked between his thighs is freezing now, and it burns through his clothes. He takes a sip, lets the cold seep into his bones. It makes him feel alive in the most fucked up way.

Techno bends one knee up, and rests his arm on it. A car drives past and Wilbur finds himself fascinated by the realisation that other people exist in this world – it’s easy to forget others exist when you care so little about yourself. He wonders briefly where they’re going – it’s after 3am and the nearest city is at least half an hour away.

The headlights fade into the distance and so do Wilbur’s thoughts about the car. He stares until his vision goes blurry, blinks, then focuses his sight back on Technoblade.

“You can go inside you know,” Wilbur mutters after a second, “I’m not holding you prisoner here.”

“I know.”

“Then why have you stayed?” Wilbur isn’t sure answer he’s expecting, but he knows the one he wants. He wants someone to care about him so forcefully and violently that he has no choice but to agree with them. A love so powerful it cancels out his own doubts.

But he’s known Techno for only a few days now, and this is maybe their fourth one-on-one interaction. He won’t get that here and he knows it, but he still hopes.

There it is again, that dangerous hope. Polluting his thoughts and filling his head with visions of an environment where he finally feels safe.

He won’t find that here.

“You looked sad,” Techno sighs deeply, “Plus the smoke was wafting in through my window and it smells kinda bad.”

Ah, there it is. The true reason for his foster brothers attempts to care. Wilbur pretends it doesn’t hurt as he turns away. Maybe in the future Techno will be someone he trusts enough to talk to, but right now the other man is just an acquaintance. Someone he’ll most likely never see again after a few weeks. When Phil gets sick of him and his issues and inevitably sends him back, like a faulty parcel.

And where’s the fucking fairness in that?

Wilbur laughs, stubs his cigarette out and pops some gum in his mouth. His back aches dangerously and it’s getting increasingly hard to breathe but he can’t let it show.

“Do you know how lucky you are, Technoblade?” He asks softly, not even fully aware he’s speaking until the words are already out. Floating in the heavy silence, making him feel like a small child having a tantrum.

Techno stares at him, an unreadable look on his face, “I wouldn’t call myself lucky.”

“You found a family who cares about you, a permanent place to stay, a father who clearly loves you to bits. Why wouldn’t you be lucky?” Wilbur tries not to sound bitter but he can’t help a small amount of it showing in his voice. Techno must pick up on this.

“Phil adopted me three years ago, and sure, it’s been good since then. But it wasn’t always good for me, Wilbur. You should know what being in the system does to people.”

Techno shifts awkwardly and Wilbur feels a little bad. Not enough to apologise, but his next words are spoken softer after a few moments of tense silence. “Why isn’t life ever fair?”

There are a few minutes where Techno doesn’t react at all, and anxiety bubbles up inside Wilbur, tightening his chest even more. He takes a sip of his monster, holding the can in shaking hands and shivering as the cool liquid hits his mouth.

Then, Techno responds. “Honestly, I think some people are just fated to suffer more than others.”

Wilbur’s fingers idly trace over the scars on his arms, faded and barely visible if you didn’t know, but still present. “Yeah,” He sniffs, blinks away the sudden tears threatening to spill, “Does it ever get easier?”

He hates how fragile his voice sounds. He hates how he’s slowly opening up. He hates the way his hands won’t stop shaking and the burning in his throat suggesting he’s about to cry. He continues anyway.

“I’m so tired Technoblade, of picking myself up just to be kicked down again, of being tossed around homes because nobody can stand me longer than a month, of being this fucking annoying, nicotine addicted, arsehole who just can’t stop self-sabotaging.” And he’s crying now, fat tears dripping down his face and an ugly sob rips its way out of his throat. “ _I just want things to change, I want a sign everything will be okay._ ”

“Wilbur-,” Techno starts, hesitates, then opens his arms for a hug. Wilbur also hesitates but finds himself seeking comfort anyway. It’s nice, he thinks, to be held while he cries. He could get used to this. Technoblade rubs his back soothingly and it’s softer than he ever would have expected from the other, but he welcomes it. Techno continues talking when Wilbur’s sobs have subsided. “The first week I was here, I burnt down the shed.”

And Wilbur shuffles back, to stare at Techno who has a completely serious expression, then he’s laughing hysterically.

“You – _what?_ ” Wilbur wheezes out, ignoring the way it’s getting harder to breathe.

“I wanted to make a scene, wanted to show Phil I was a difficult kid, that he should just send me back,” Techno pauses, eyes unfocused as he stares out towards the road, “Do you want to know how he reacted?” Wilbur nods. “He laughed at me, dragged me shopping with him to buy a new shed, then bought campfire equipment so I could have a _safe_ fire.”

“A safe fire? What the fuck?” Wilbur laughs softly, finding a whole new admiration for the man opposite him, and the other man sound asleep in the house. Maybe he could make a home here. Maybe.

“Yeah,” Techno shifts position, crossing his legs and bouncing one knee up and down, “So trust me, whatever baggage you’ve got, he’ll find a way to deal with it. Phil’s a good man, and an even better Dad.”

For a few seconds, Wilbur entertains the idea of a family. A Dad who he can trust, someone who will have his back, look after him, show him the affection he was never privileged enough to get. Someone who’ll support him in his weakest moments and praise him in his best.

It sounds nice, he can’t deny.

“I’m sure I could find something he doesn’t want to put up with.” Wilbur says it like a joke, but his mind is on the binder around his chest and the constant urge to tear his own skin off. He’s almost certain Phil wouldn’t want this – the thought of him being 100% accepted, after all he’s been through, is almost impossible to think about.

“I mean maybe if you blew up a country, he might have an issue, but otherwise? I think you’ll be fine. Just don’t be an ass to Phil and we won’t have any issues.” Techno laughs after speaking, but the monotone voice combined with the slight glint in his eye makes Wilbur think he’s being serious.

It’s noted. He may be slightly older, but Techno is physically stronger and almost as tall. Not a fight he thinks he could win. Still, he doesn’t feel threatened by it. It’s more of a promise that if he treats Phil wrong, Techno will not take his side. Which is fair. Wilbur thinks if he found a group of people who loved him, he would want to protect them too.

The conversation has left Wilbur feeling oddly drained, and he yawns, stretching up into the air and feeling his chest constrict painfully. Techno moves, climbs back in Wilbur’s window, and then offers a hand to help him in. Wilbur takes it, nodding gratefully. He places the now-empty can of monster on his desk and stands awkwardly. Techno walks towards the door, then stalls as if trying to find the right words to say. His internal dilemma doesn’t last very long.

“You could fit in here, Wilbur.” Techno says, his monotone voice uncharacteristically soft, “It’s just up to you.”

He leaves after that. The room is quiet and dark, Wilbur falls asleep quickly.

And, if he dreams of family meals and game nights featuring Techno and Phil, and another person he _just can’t seem to recognise_ , then nobody needs to know.

**Author's Note:**

> if ur not in a great headspace, please reach out to someone. i hope ur all doing well. take a moment today to look after yourself. 
> 
> this is gonna be a series set in the same universe, so if you've got any fic ideas feel free to comment and ill mayb write them :D 
> 
> thank u sm <3


End file.
